Stef Ann Holm by Lucy Back (books to read in your 30s TXT) 📗

been the day he’d cut class to go fishing with his buddies, and received his second speeding ticket on the way home. He’d had his driver’s license taken away for thirty days. His rebellious behavior after her ex-husband left them was why she’d made the decision to move her two boys to the small town of Red Duck.

The glossy travel brochures touted that tourists might flock to Timberline, but they played in Red Duck. Golf, biking, skiing. Red Duck had a year-round population of three thousand that swelled to six thousand depending on the season.

Nestled in a flat valley at the base of the Wood Ridge Mountains, Red Duck only had two traffic signals on Main Street. All the buildings had the same false-fronted design—from the old Mule Shoe Bar to the new Blockbuster on Honeysuckle Road.

“Mom, can we go now?” Matt asked, the freckles on his face prominent from being in the high altitude sun.

They’d arrived in town a good hour ago and, for the life of her, she hadn’t been able to find their rental. She’d gone several miles beyond Main Street, even into the Timberline Resort, but the road she was supposed to turn on seemed to have vanished.

She drove the do-it-yourself moving truck with all their possessions packed inside, navigating the best she could, with her sixteen-year-old, at the helm of her beloved car, following behind. Each time she’d stopped to turn around, Jason had raised his hands in exasperation as if to say, “Where are you going?” Then he’d clamped hard on the steering wheel and accelerated far too fast for her comfort.

Against her better judgment, and for lack of an alternative driver, she’d let her son make the two hundred mile trip from Boise to Red Duck in the Passat. She’d insisted Matt ride with her so he couldn’t distract Jason—who’d totaled his small pickup almost two months ago and was without a car.

In defeat and puzzlement, Lucy had brought the boys to the sheriff’s department, hoping the law officials would know how to direct her. Now she regretted that decision. Being put under a microscope before she’d even unpacked a single dish wasn’t how she had envisioned their arrival.

Lucy squared her shoulders. “I’m renting a house on Lost River Road and I can’t seem to find the turnoff. I’ve been up before. I thought I knew how to get there, but for some reason, the street’s missing.”

Matter-of-factly, Sheriff Lewis said, “It happens in the spring. Snowmelt. You get some flash floods out that way from the Lost River.”

The deputy added his two cents. “It’s a river that comes and goes depending on the rainy season.”

“The street was washed out last week. Nobody’s gotten around to putting up a new sign yet.”

“Aw jeez,” Jason whined. “We live on a street that disappears, and they’ve got dead bodies here, too.”

“Dead bodies?” Sheriff Lewis echoed, his hand falling too close to his holster. “Where’s a dead body?”

Matt’s voice came out in a quiver. “Timberline Highway. The big massacre.”

The sheriff had the nerve to laugh. Lucy was about to tell him that it wasn’t funny in the slightest.

“That’s no dead body. It’s a road-kill elk,” Deputy Cooper supplied, his facial expression trying to remain neutral, but a grin cut across his mouth. “And a damn big ’un. What’s left of the carcass and guts is spread out on both lanes, blood splattered from here to kingdom come. My guess it was a three-quarter-ton diesel that got it.”

The sheriff cocked his hat. “I’m thinking a Hummer.”

“Drew Tolman drives a Hummer,” the deputy mused. “I haven’t see it in town today.”

“Too early.” Sheriff Lewis gazed at the sun. “Tolman doesn’t roll into Opal’s for breakfast until noon.”

“Unless it’s Little League season. Then he gets there about nine. Orders the same thing every day. Steak and eggs.”

“Sometimes he swaps out the steak for six sausage links. I saw him do that a few times.”

At that, Matt said, “Mom, I’m hungry.”

They’d been snacking on crackers and fruit in the car, and now that food had been mentioned, Lucy’s stomach growled. She could all but taste her special roasted pepper omelet with seasoned potatoes.

“We’ll get something as soon as we find the house.” To the sheriff she queried, “If the road is washed out, how am I supposed to get there?”

“Cooper’ll draw you a map on how get in the back way. What’s the address?”

“346 Lost River Road.”

Sheriff Lewis gave them each another long, skeptical glance. “That’s Bud Tremore’s teardown.”

Lucy cringed, not wanting to have to explain that to the boys in mixed company.

“What’s a teardown?” Jason asked, slipping away from her once more. While it was a physical distance, she’d been feeling the emotional distance as well. He wasn’t her baby anymore, and she hoped this move would help their relationship retain some of the closeness they’d once had. Relocating would allow him to make new friends, boys who were boys and not young men who thought they were tough and knew everything.

The sheriff didn’t give her the opportunity to elaborate. “A teardown is just what you think it is. A building that’s going to be torn down. Real estate in Red Duck is so pricey you just can’t buy good land anymore. You take what’s a pile of junk, demo it and build new.” Looking at Lucy, he arched his brows. “I didn’t think Bud was renting out that place anymore.”

He wasn’t. Or wasn’t going to until she’d convinced him otherwise.

On her scouting trip, she’d been quickly disillusioned. She’d learned through a Realtor that the people who worked here most likely didn’t live here. They lived in Twin Falls or Shoshone and rode a bus to and from town.

Bud Tremore owned the Salmon Creek RV Park, and when she’d been at her rope’s end, unable to find a place to live, she’d stopped in to use the restroom and put a dollar in the vending machine for a bottle of Coke. She’d got to talking to Bud, and ended up